


inbriatated

by sejutaejo



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: 12 y/o Sofia, Attempt at Humor, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Latina mom Callie, New York City, One Shot, attempt at fluff, drunk Arizona, sapphic moms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sejutaejo/pseuds/sejutaejo
Summary: “Arizona, the Center’s secretary had to call me to come pick you up because you were, and I quote, incredibly inebriated.”“But I wasn’t inbriatated.”“Inebriated.”---or:Arizona is hungover and out of commission. Callie is there to fix her. And Sofia's honestly just dodging chanclas. — a Calzona happy in New York one-shot
Relationships: Arizona Robbins/Callie Torres
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	inbriatated

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! If you were waiting for an update on the Royalty AU, I'm sorry for taking so long, but good news though, I've already written the fourth chapter, so yeah, not abandoned hahaha
> 
> And, thanks so much for the support on that fic! You guys are really the best, and yeah, god I'm already gonna cry and I've just begun that story lmao
> 
> This is my sort of apology one-shot for being inactive, and it's sort of in the fluff spectrum but not exactly fluff? Idk, just, it's not angst ahahaha. 
> 
> This is also for the person I met on Twitter who sent me paragraphs of amazing messages, and it was really sweet and kinda made me tear up so, yeah, thank you so much :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't actually know how hangovers work.

Sofia woke up to a heavy arm draped over her torso. The body behind her was deep in sleep, if the weight of unconsciousness and the faint fruity-sour smell that Sofia had always associated with her mothers sleeping in in the morning were any indications. She tries to roll off the bed, but the arm around her waist pulls her closer with every little movement, so she resorts to wriggling out from under the vise grip, and, still, the stubborn person, whoever it was this time between her two mothers, refuses to let her go.

Normally, she wouldn’t attempt to do this. But it was a school day, and her mama would kick her ass for waking up late on a school day, so Sofia adjusts her angle on the bed, and, with all her strength, gives a mighty kick to the person holding her hostage. Troubling times called for desperate measures and such.

The unconscious victim didn’t wake up, but she did topple down to the floor in a heavy thud. Peering over the edge of her bed, Sofia winces when she sees her mom, Arizona, sprawled on the ground, blonde hair draped over her closed eyelids, and her body laying down in an uncomfortable position. 

The bedroom door suddenly opens and Callie looks at the strange scene with raised brows and a skeptic look. When she heard the sound of something falling off a bed, she had expected to see this exact scene before her, she just didn’t think it would actually happen. Her wife was asleep on the floor with her shirt halfway lifted, and her daughter was kneeling on the bed, the obvious suspect given the guilty look on her face.

“She wouldn’t let me go,” Sofia whines at her unspeaking mother.

Callie glances once more at the unconscious Arizona before pushing the door wide open and gesturing for her daughter, “What are you waiting for? I’m not driving above the speed limit for you, young lady. I want you off that bed in 3, 2—“

Without another word, Sofia jumps from her bed, shoots off from her room, and down to the bathroom before her mother could say ‘one’. From the bedroom, Callie hears the shower turned on as water rushes down and splashes against the bathroom floor. With her daughter now preoccupied, Callie looks again towards Arizona who is still asleep on the floor, undisturbed by the hustle of the morning and still blackout drunk. “ _Ay, dios mio_ , Arizona.”

She kneels closer to her sleeping wife and brushes the straying strands of blonde hair from her face. A few strands stick to her cheeks in what Callie assumes is drool, and the Latina silently laughs at the thought of her wife drooling on the head of her neat freak daughter. Arizona’s lips are slightly parted revealing a peek of pearly white teeth, and breath exits her in soft steady rounds. Callie traces her lips once, the skin slightly chapped from alcohol, before resting her hand on Arizona’s right cheek and giving her gentle taps to rouse her from sleep. “Come on, baby. You’ll hurt your back.”

When the blonde is still unresponsive, Callie tries a little harder, now shaking Arizona’s shoulders. “Arizona,” she taps on her cheeks again. “Arizona, wake up.”

Arizona lets out a soft groan that Callie hoped for her sake wasn’t a ‘no’ and refuses to stir from her slumber. This goes on for five more seconds, Callie shaking and waking an immobile Arizona, but the unrewarding effort feels like years have passed for Callie, and every time she gets no response, irritation claws at her from deep inside. Now annoyed, Callie glares with the fury of hell at her sleeping wife and hopes that, if nothing else, her irritation can pierce through Arizona’s sleepy haze. “Arizona, I swear to god if you do not wake up right now I will make sure you won’t ever wake up again.”

A strand of blonde hair falls over Arizona’s parted lips, and Callie watches as it flutters up the air then gracefully falls back down in an undisturbed pattern.

“— fine, let’s do it your way.”

Callie winds her hands under Arizona’s arms and heaves her up. She had wanted to hoist her wife over her shoulder in one go, she’d already done it a couple of times, and the irritation she was feeling gave her the temporary strength of God, but a drunk Arizona was a heavy Arizona, and all Callie managed to hoist over her was the blonde’s head which was now leaning on her shoulder and spreading drool through Callie’s dark hair, lolling heavily towards Callie’s face in one moment and threatening to slip from her shoulder on the next.

Arizona’s body leaned heavily against Callie’s, and, usually, that might have been the start to some of their sexier nights, but Callie didn’t work alone and her work partner was out cold like Sofia’s eighth birthday goldfish when they forgot to feed it for a week. Instead, Callie lifts both of them, and the awkward position almost makes her stumble. Carrying her drunk wife across her daughter’s small bedroom was like lifting a boulder up a hill in the pits of hell, but Callie worked harder than the devil, and, somehow, she managed to pull her wife out of the door before the year had passed. Arizona may have bumped against desks and drawers now and then, but shaking her couldn’t wake her up so Callie thought she probably wouldn’t mind.

They are in the middle of the hallway on the way to their bedroom when Sofia comes out of the shower, hair wrapped up with a towel and wearing a pink Elsa bathrobe because she was twelve years old which meant she was old enough to pretend at being an adult but young enough that the adult she was pretending to be was a Disney character. She blinks at the both of them, confused and astounded because her mama was usually smarter than this. “Where are you going, Mama?”

“Carrying your drunk mother to bed, Sofia, because we don’t leave family sleeping on the floor. Now, sweetie, go and dress before I leave you and drive to school by myself,” Callie grunts as she half-drags Arizona through the floor.

They are half-way to their bedroom when Sofia chimes, “But Mama, you could have left Mommy in my room instead. I’m going to school anyway.” The girl instantly regrets pointing this out when Callie suddenly stops in the hallway, Arizona almost dropping from her hold.

Only having realized this, Callie doesn’t speak for a while, but Sofia can see the cogs turning in her head. However, the little girl knew better than to make fun of her because, although she could laugh at her mommy and Arizona would still treat her with ice cream, laughing at her mama would be inviting a supersonic _chancla_ to her head. It’s only really just a throw pillow or one of her stuffed toys, but her mama insists on calling them _‘chanclas’_ whenever they are promoted to the temporary function of being Sofia-sized airstrikes.

Finally, Callie blinks, and, before she could say a word, Sofia dashes to her room.

After an excruciating minute later, Callie finally brings her wife inside their room. With what Sofia would call a ‘yeet’, the Latina propels Arizona towards their bed, but only manages to get Arizona’s upper body to hit the sheets. Grumbling, Callie hooks her hands under Arizona’s arms once more and pulls her toward the center of their bed. Her arms give out from exhaustion and she topples on top of Arizona, but, still, Arizona doesn’t stir. Grumbling in Spanish noises this time, Callie pushes away from the bed and stands up to fix her clothes. The bed is a mess, the sheets are untucked from sliding Arizona against them, and Arizona herself is sprawled in the middle, arms spread wide and her foot dangling over the edge.

“You’re so lucky that I love you,” sighs Callie before grabbing Arizona once more and finally settling her head on the pillows. She tries her best to fix the sheets with a sleeping woman on top of them, then she fetches a glass of water and Aspirin for the raging hangover that will definitely come when Arizona finally, _finally,_ wakes up.

Sofia catches her placing the hangover cures on the nightstand, and the gesture makes the little girl smile cheekily at her mother. Her grin soon fades when Callie reaches for one of the pillows.

* * *

Callie drives to a fast food restaurant after she drops Sofia to school. Arizona was always the better cook between them — Arizona was the only cook – so they would have to settle for takeout considering that their cook was currently out of commission. As she’s driving home, she’s called in for a quick consult. The case was better resolved if Callie herself sees the patient, and the hospital wasn’t too far anyway, so she drives to the hospital and is stuck there for the better part of the morning.

When she returns home, it’s the middle of the day, and one would think that, by now, Arizona would be awake and nursing her hangover, but the house is silent when she arrives, and nobody tells her to stop when she turns on the TV in full volume.

“Arizona?” Callie calls as she’s heading for their bedroom. Nobody answers her, but she still opens the door gently, expecting to see her wife burrowed under layers of blankets. Instead, what she sees makes her want to slam the door shut, or maybe even pull it off its hinges and throw it out the window.

“ _Ese puta madre_ —“ Arizona was still asleep, blankets tangled around her limbs, sprawled on the floor.

* * *

Callie’s watching a heist film on Netflix when Arizona finally comes out of their bedroom. Miraculously, despite still suffering from a glaringly obvious hangover, Arizona had managed to wear her prosthetic leg, and it is the second most impressive thing Callie has seen Arizona do outside of their bedroom.

The blonde stumbles to their living room, scratching her head and blinking groggily against the light. Although Callie voted against it, Arizona had been the one to suggest installing more windows to their living room area to ‘bring in more light’. Sofia had sided with her, of course, because they apparently shared the same brain when it came to everything fun and perky. Callie finds wicked pleasure at the thought of how much Arizona must be regretting her choice now that she’s hungover.

“Calliopeee…” she starts, as if pleased to see her there. “I woke up on the floor?” Arizona’s words are slurred and almost incoherent, but if Callie had learned any new language at all during their years together, it was the cut vowels and mashed syllables of Arizona’s drunk speak.

“Yes, honey. I hope you slept well,” answers Callie, now looking back at the movie playing on the TV. She doesn’t understand half of what’s going on — except that if they were cockily smirking then the plan was going flawlessly, but if they weren’t, then it was all that one guy’s fault — but she wants to keep pretending at ignoring Arizona a bit longer.

“I—can’t remember anything…” 

_‘Oh, really? That’s new,’_ thought Callie.

“So bright... what time is it?” Arizona continues, shutting her eyes tightly, a small frown on her face, and all Callie can think about is how delectable she looks with the neckline of her shirt almost falling off on one shoulder and the disarrayed state of her hair which is giving Callie flashbacks that were not safe for work. It didn’t help that when Arizona magically put her prosthetic on in her indisposed state, she had forgotten to put her pajamas back on as well.

“2PM, babe,” Callie says nonchalantly before she crosses her legs and sips on her glass of orange juice. They only used pet names when they were either in the midst of foreplay or if they were being passive-aggressive with each other, and Callie can’t tell which end of the spectrum she was in right now.

“Then why is it so bright?”

Callie raises her brow, waiting for the blonde to catch-up. When she obviously couldn’t, Callie shrugs, “2PM means two in the afternoon, not every ‘PM’ happens at night. Arizona, did you even take the Aspirin on the nightstand?” _Of course, she didn’t,_ Callie answers herself. _She woke up on the floor. She probably didn’t even see it._

“Aspirin? Why do I need — god, my head hurts so much,” the blonde moans, swaying on her feet.

Worry finally overcomes her and Callie catches Arizona before she hits the wall. She doesn’t forget to turn the TV off before she moves, and the sudden tranquility in the afternoon light would have been calming were it not for her hungover wife who lost the capacity to tell day from night. “ _This_ is why you need Aspirin. Jeez, Arizona, I’m not letting you go drinking with Dr Herman again. What did she do to you?” Callie leads her to the nearest couch, and Arizona immediately curls on herself as soon as she sits down. “Stay here while I go grab water.”

“I don’t think I’m going anywhere,” her wife smiles at her, but it quickly turns into a painful grimace. Callie closes the curtains on her way back to their bedroom, submerging their house in a dim light. If Arizona got to install windows, then it was only fair that she chose the curtains, and damn if she didn’t take that chance to buy dark curtains with the most badass patterns she’d ever seen. When she reemerges, Arizona is rubbing circles on her temple and pressing the back of her head against the couch. It is one of the rare instances that the perky blonde appreciated Callie’s edgy choices.

“Here, drink this,” Callie offers her the glass of water and Aspirin, and Arizona quickly takes them faster than Callie could use a supersonic _chancla_. “Wow, you really drank your weight last night, huh?”

Arizona peeks at her from beneath strands of blonde hair that had once again strayed, her blue eyes a bit muted but still shining in the dim light of the room, and, despite all the evidence, despite the current situation, Arizona strongly declares, “I wasn’t drunk.”

Callie almost snorted, but laughing loudly right now would only make Arizona feel worse, so she suppresses it into small chuckles. “Arizona, the Center’s secretary had to call me to come pick you up because you were, and I quote, incredibly inebriated.”

“But I wasn’t inbriatated.”

“Inebriated.”

Arizona scrunches her eyebrows the way she does when she’s concentrating. She takes a deep breath and then with her exhale, “Inumbrayated.”

A thought enters Callie, and she wonders if Sofia was old enough to watch the aftereffects of a hangover. This would make a fun video to show to her daughter, maybe even some of their co-workers. Maybe not Herman, though. Arizona’s mentor would never allow her to live past this, which meant cranky Arizona, which meant not-in-the-mood Arizona, which meant cranky Callie and not-in-the-mood Callie and concerned Sofia and the end of their household.

In front of her, Arizona brushes hair away from her face and glares at Callie, “I am very responsible when I drink. I would’ve called you myself before I got tipsy.” Apparently, Arizona’s stubbornness is stronger than her hangover.

“You were very responsible. In fact, when I arrived, you gave me your phone because you told me you had to call your wife to come pick you up, but you didn’t remember the passcode, and you said I looked familiar, so you thought I could unlock it,” Callie recounts while running her fingers through her wife’s hair. 

Arizona huffs, “That’s ridiculous, my passcode is 543210. I made it easy so I could unlock it even when I’m drunk.”

“Exactly, and you almost disabled your phone because you kept pressing 6 instead of 0.”

“Why would I mistake 6 for 0—“

“You were trying to go for the letter ‘o’.”

Arizona narrows her eyes, trying to remember what the letter ‘o’ looked like, and then she blinks, “…oh.”

“I’m still really proud of you for making it to the last digit of your passcode,” Callie smiles. “Most people won’t even remember they have phones. Do you want to hear more stories about how drunk you were last night?”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

“Okay, next,” Callie continues despite Arizona’s pained complaints. “When you did finally call me — by the way, this is after I unlocked your phone for you, _after_ — you cried, for allegedly the fifth time that night, because I started speaking in Spanish and you couldn’t understand.” Callie had been very tired last night. She’d just come home from her shift in the hospital expecting to have some loving from her wife only to find out that Arizona had been dragged into a bar by Nicole Herman. Ten o’clock had already passed and, still, Arizona wasn’t home. It didn’t help that the blonde wasn’t answering her stupid phone. An hour later, her phone finally rang with Arizona’s name on the screen, but imagine the dread she felt when the person who answered her was another woman’s voice, and imagine how that dread turned into irritation when she found out Arizona was drunk on some bar instead of giving her her much deserved loving. “Do you want me to describe how your face slowly crumbled before you cried?” Watching drunk Arizona cry was a different experience, like watching dominoes topple down in slow motion, one thing slowly but easily leading into the next.

“Please, Callie, no. My head hurts so much—“

“First, your eyebrows did a sad little frown like this,” Callie pressed her thumbs on Arizona’s forehead and pulled her brows up. “Then your eyes began to water, like, you already have ocean blue eyes, but imagine the ocean being wetter,” she ponders on her analogy. “Hmmm, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Callie, that doesn’t make any sense,” Arizona stops her. “...the ocean is the biggest body of water on Earth. It can’t get any wetter… wait, but what if it rains—” And, apparently, the know-it-all-but-also-a-dumbass Arizona was also stronger than her hangover.

“Then your lips began to tremble,” Callie leaned in close, straddling the blonde on the couch and her finger tracing again on the curves of Arizona’s lips. She closes the distance between them and gives Arizona a long kiss. When she breaks away, Arizona is looking at her with eyes the clearest they have been all day, her lips slightly parted and trembling. It makes Callie grin, “Yeah, just like that.”

The grin taunts Arizona to steal another kiss. Headache forgotten, she puts her hand against the small of Callie’s back and pulls her closer. Arizona tries to catch her lips but Callie evades her easily, holding a finger against Arizona’s mouth. “Callie…” Arizona whines, so much like Sofia when she’s asking for ice cream.

“Easy there, champ,” Callie whispers in the little space between their touching foreheads. “Are you okay now? Did my little kiss cure your hangover?”

“I wasn’t drunk—“

“Did you know that before you were sleeping on our bedroom floor, you were sleeping on Sofia’s bed? And when she woke up, she kicked you to the floor. Should I tell you all about that too? Because it’s really funny—“

“Fine! Fine!” Arizona surrenders, jerking her head back on the couch. “I’m sorry I got drunk.”

“Inebriated. Say it.” 

“…inbririated—“

And then Callie laughs so loud, eyes closed shut and all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if it was subpar.
> 
> So, yeah, it's sort of a metaphor for me in the process of asking for forgiveness for my inactivity. But, it's also me being a crackhead at 2:36 in the morning.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
